


I Loved Her More Than Spring

by JonsaInTheNorth



Series: As The Seasons Turn [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 04:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7494663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonsaInTheNorth/pseuds/JonsaInTheNorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon left Winterfell to defend them from enemies beyond the Wall; now he protects her from enemies in the South.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Loved Her More Than Spring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vmtr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vmtr/gifts).



> I really love angst way to much. Shoutout to vmtr for inspiring looking at it in Jon's POV.

**Six days after Bran murmured Jon’s mother’s name in the godswood, he decides to leave Winterfell.**

He is tired as he falls into his bed; not of the work to fix the keep but of the work to keep from Sansa. She brings him to smile when he wants to brood, she causes his laughter with gentle quips, she is family in a way he never thought to have it again. But Bran’s words are not as helpful as he thought they would be, for they mean his craven thoughts don’t come just from his heart but from his blood instead. 

 

_Targaryen._ The name is strange upon his lips as he mouths it in the dull shadows of his chambers. Jon stares at the ceiling, picturing her face and hoping for her company when he breaks his fast the next day.

He rises, unable to sleep. Jon’s feet lead him out the door and round the halls of Winterfell, the seat of the Northern King.  _But am I really, if my father isn’t of these lands?_

When he stands before Sansa’s door, he is hard pressed to move at all. He should leave, he knows, but some force compels him to raise his hand and nearly knocks. 

An inch away from the door, he drops his hand. Jon pivots and storms into his own chambers once more. He cannot handle this proximity to her, not when his depraved heart aches to hold her in his arms.

On the morrow, he will leave for his aunt’s capitol in the south, to lend his hand and offer assistance to forge an alliance for the North. In time, he will heal of his unfortunate love, purify his Targaryen heart and come back stronger and better for it.

 

* * *

**Two months later, and he marches North at Dany’s side.**

Sansa writes him letters, sends ravens with word of Arya’s arrival home and news of the progress on the castle walls. He tries to ignore the wistfulness he imagines in every swooping curve of her hand writing, in every  _Dear Jon,_ she scribes. 

She proclaimed him brother, would have named him a true Stark, and he repays her with a devilish yearning to taste her lips. Daenerys asks after the cause of all his brooding, but he cannot admit even to her, who would expect such strange devotion for a sibling.

Each time he picks up a quill and tries to write her, all that he can write, over and over again, is:  _I love you._

Jon wishes to send it, to tell her the truth, but he cannot let her know it. Too much hurt would come of the twisted piece of his godsforsaken emotions, too much pain from the way he dreams of her at night.

In the end, he does not respond to Sansa’s letters.

 

* * *

**“A fortnight past, I met with your cousins.”**

Dany’s words startle him. Jon strains his eyes against the soft light of the candles to see her face.

“Sansa is a lovely woman, and both are fierce as their direwolves.” The Stark sigil, once that of his dreams, although he would have it as brother, not husband.

“Yes.”

He will not say more, cannot. Dany is quite taken with Arya, would call her South when this is over, but Jon cannot say he hopes it never ends.

For when the Dark Night is done, he must return. And still when he dreams of home, it is Sansa, not Winterfell, that is all he sees.

 

* * *

**At the break of dawn, twelve days before the new year begins, he is met with another option.**

He flies Viserion South. It is the Imp’s idea, for Jon to help them rule the world now that it needs to be rebuilt.

In the day, he throws his heart and mind into forging a new nation, better and stronger than before. There are fields to sow, roads to construct, courtiers to meet, people to feed. Lords and Ladies of the Seven Kingdoms come to curry favor with the Queen’s nephew and heir, to learn what would please him most. The poor are hungry and starving; some still shiver despite the returning warmth. The work is never ending and it is a perfect distraction from the later hours.

In the night, he dreams of a red wolf in new fallen snow.

 

* * *

**Twelve weeks after he hears of Sansa’s suitors, he finally cannot take it anymore.**

Daenerys finds him shoving his wardrobe into saddle bags as he prepares to flee. He does not hear her enter the room, only looks up to see her standing in his doorframe.

“Don’t leave me, Jon.”

Her voice is so sincere that he nearly misses the fire in her eyes. But then he thinks of Sansa, alone but for Arya and beset on all sides by lords seeking her hand and her titles, that he cannot help but frown.

“I need you.” Dany steps closer and cups his face in her hands. She holds his gaze, those beautiful purple eyes steady and unyielding. “Please. Leave the North be, lest you call down fire where it need not go.”

He hears the threat, just like he does each time a Tyrell complains of the Northerners' demands for food and workers. Everyone ignores the sacrifices of the North, the entire kingdom that defended all the rest from the White Walkers.

“Yes, Dany. I know.”

Jon pulls her in and holds her, tight against his body. But when he kisses her, his mouth tastes of ash.

 

* * *

**Three months into their marriage, and Jon learns he will be a father.**

She names the boy Eddard, in hopes to please her nephew-husband-King. He is happy with it, its true, and the boy smiles up at his father with the same solemn, grey eyes that Jon remembers from his childhood.

While he loves his son deeply, there is something disconcerting about the white hair that springs from his head that Jon will never get over. He ignores it in his wife, for every time he looks at her he sees another face. His eyes fill with the devotion he wishes he could shower on another, another who will never have him.

Dany is a good wife and a better mother, teaching their son all the things of their house that Jon has never known. They both listen, enraptured by her tales. As Eddard grows older and stronger, Jon grows happier with the life he lives.

He hears of Sansa's wedding from Sam's letters, a passing comment from his friend. He is glad she had found happiness, someone to love, or so he hopes. He knows she deserves someone true.

King and father, two things he thought to never know, never truly dreamed of, but his all the same. He embraces this life as the one that he has, but deep in his heart he still dreams of winter.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out and fangirl about Jonsa and other ASOIAF/GOT goodness with me on [tumblr](http://jonsa-in-the-north.tumblr.com).


End file.
